


A Blacksmith's Lady

by handsofasmith



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18654103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsofasmith/pseuds/handsofasmith
Summary: Ned Stark has been attempting to match her daughter carefully with a highborn lord after nearly marrying Sansa to the horrible Joffrey Baratheon. But Arya has managed to make herself as unappealing as possible to the every lord she can to avoid being their prize. Now she has to meet the newly legitimized son of a king who everyone hopes is good enough for Arya.





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I'm notorious for having a lot of typos so I'm so sorry if there are a lot. I proofread it three times but there could still be some. Let me now if it's unbearable.

Arya knocks on the door to her father’s solar and makes a half hearted attempt at brushing off the dirt from her boiled leather jerkin. She walks into her father's solar. She sits in the seat on the opposite side of his desk as he writes a letter to who knows what lord. 

 

“You asked for me, father?”

 

Ned looks up at her and smiles but she can see the dark circles under his eyes. “Yes. We need to talk about what the expectations are when the king and his family gets here.”

 

Arya crinkles her eyebrows. She thinks back to when the king arrived seven years ago. The fat man had done his best to get father to marry off Sansa to his horrid son Joffrey. Father had refused after receiving a letter from the hand Jon Arryn who warned father of the boy's nature. It was becoming increasingly difficult for them to find a bride for the little shit. Arya didn't understand why she needed to behave any differently than she had then.

 

“Arya, you need to be more tame for this visit. More,” he hesitates knowing Arya would reject any request to be ladylike, “civil. More civil.”

 

“I'm civil all the time. I'm not a complete ass.”

 

“That right there is what I mean. No swearing or any other rude things. You're sixteen now. We need you to be appealing for potential marriages and--”

 

“Ah, so this visit is a potential proposal. I see now. You want me to marry the King's son. I'm going to assume it's the little fat one. Thomas?”

 

“Tommen.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

“Well I'm not talking about that son. I'm talking his son Gendry. He's was a bastard blacksmith that was recently legitimized. Which makes him heir.”

 

Arya leans forward in her seat. “You know I don't want to be married father. All the lords you've invited here to court me have been immune to my charms. I don't think he'll be any different.” 

 

Ned pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “Could you try? For your old father?”

 

“What does he look like? Have you met him? Will he ask me to stop fighting? Those southern lordlings love to talk about how they can't wait to tame the she wolf and fill her with pups.”

 

Ned squints at her, “who said that to you?”

 

“Don't worry about it.”

 

Ned sighs and stands up from his chair and walks over to Arya. He puts a letter in her hand and she notices it's broken seal. She sees that it was meant for her.

 

“Father did you open my letter?”

 

“No, your mother did. She was afraid Sansa would send you a letter regarding this new candidate so she intercepted it before you could see it. I wanted to tell you. She only knows about this because we asked her about the boy to be sure he wasn't like Joffrey.”

 

Arya huffs but scans over the letter. Until she sees the keywords she needs.

 

_ Bastard born blacksmith. _

_ Kind and polite but shy. _

_ No idea how court works but he's trying.  _

_ He's extremely handsome. He looks like Renly, remember him from your visit to Highgarden? _

 

She thinks back to what Renly looked like. She can remember him from Sansa's wedding to Willas Tyrell. He was handsome if her memory was correct. Nothing like his brother. Much more kingly and no shortage of charm. She stands from her seat.

 

“So will you behave?” Ned says with hope on his face. 

 

“I can't make that promise, father.”

 

“Well do try. They'll be arriving tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?!”

 

“Yes and I expect you to be in the yard with everyone else to welcome them. I expect you to be clean and well kempt. Just because I let you train doesn't mean you get to be dirty and not presentable.”

 

“Yes, father.”

 

She stalks from the room and makes her way back outside to the yard. The targets are up and waiting to be shot through with a few of her arrows. She picks up her favorite bow and notches an arrow before letting it fly straight toward the bullseye. She smiles quietly to herself. 

 

“Don't look so proud. We all know you can shoot from that distance with no trouble. It's not that impressive.” Bran walks over and takes the bow from her hands. He walks back about ten feet and shoots his own arrow. It misses the bullseye by a few inches. 

 

“Not bad,” Arya says.

 

“Well thank you.”

 

“No I meant not bad for someone who's as bad as you are.”

 

Bran puts his hand on his chest and pretends to be in pain. “I'm hurt. You have hurt me.” He notches another arrow. 

 

Arya goes to sit on the fence that lines the archery area. She chuckles as Bran misses again.

 

“You always shoot too far left. Try compensating.”

 

“I am compensating!” Bran yells as he misses by only the tiniest inch. Arya begins to laugh again. Her eyes water as Bran gets angry and tries to throw an arrow at the target like a knife and it hits the target flat and flops to the ground.

 

“Arya, you know he's really good. Who else can consistently hit that close to the bullseye?”

 

She looks over to see Jon standing beside her leaning against the fence from the other side.

 

“Oh I know he's good but he gets so cocky when you tell him so. Plus he's more angry because he'll never be as good as me.”

 

“So did father tell you about your betrothed?”

 

“He isn't my betrothed. He's just coming to evaluate me I imagine. Like every other little lord I've been forced to entertain.”

 

“If this one is a little shit I’ll help you put sheep dung in his mattress. Maybe we’ll escalate to horse shit time.”

 

Arya laughs and jumps down from the fence. She gives Jon a hug then walks the long way back to her chambers. She looks out the window at the sun setting.  _ They're coming tomorrow. _ She thought about her father asking her to at least try this time. She had never tried before but maybe this time she would for her father. She would not wear a dress but she could at least try not to swear and remain clean and neat when the time called for it. They were small things but for her they meant something. They were her own little rebellions. She went over to a chest of clothes that she had stashed away. Most of them were dresses her mother kept making for her and she refused to wear them but there was one thing she thought might be a good compromise. She dug to the bottom and pulled out a black pair of pants and a gray doublet that was long enough to be considered a dress. 

 

The doublet was cut in the way that didn't impede her movement. It was tight at the waist to show off her figure her mother had said and she had made it come down nearly to Arya's ankles but with long slits down the side that started at the hip. There was a white wolf embroidered on the breast of both sides and they had tiny vines and flowers swirling around them. The trousers were plain and more form fitting then a man's. It was all lined extremely soft fur and if she was being honest she didn't hate it. So she folded it neatly as she could and laid them in a chair for tomorrow. She stripped off her dirty britches and boiled leather she was currently wearing and threw them into the corner. She looked down at her sweaty linen shirt and chucked it off too. She went over to the basin of water which was now cold and wiped off her skin. She climbed into bed and let herself fall asleep trying not to think about tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Arya woke up the sound of light tapping on her door. She looked out the window to see the sky was just starting to lighten up. She rubs her eyes and practically rolls out of bed. She puts on a clean linen shirt and walks to the door. When she pulls it open a crack and sees her mother standing there with a brush and leather ties in hand.

 

“Mother, you really don't have to do my hair.”

 

“I'm going to anyway. Now go take a seat. I'm only going to keep it simple. Compromise remember?”

 

Compromise is what her and mother always said now. She let Arya train and fight and Arya allowed her to do things like this.

 

Arya sits in the chair and allows Catelyn to brush the tangles from her hair.  _ Compromise.  _ Arya allows herself to enjoy the the feeling of the brush in her. It's not so bad once the tangles are gone. Catelyn divides Arya's hair down the middle and braids each side. 

 

“Your hair is getting long. I'm surprised you didn't cut it.”

 

“It's not that bad since it always up.”

 

Catelyn takes the braids and wrap them into a bun at the base of Arya's head. 

 

“That's it?”

 

“That it. I know the more I fight the more you'll resist. Now what are you wearing?”

 

Arya points over to the chair where she folded her clothes last night. Catelyn picks them up and smiles. 

 

“You're going to look lovely in this.” She puts them back gently as if they'll break. “I'm going to let you get dressed and promise me you'll try to behave.”

 

“I'll certainly try.”

 

“That's all I ask.” Catelyn closes the door behind her and Arya walks over to a basin of warm water that a servant must have brought in right before her mother woke her up. She takes the cloth off the edge of the bowl and soaks it in water before wringing it out and running it over her face. The warmth seems to wash away any sleep that was left in her. Once her skin is clean she looks at her hands and sees her fingernails are filled with dirt.  _ I'll certainly try.  _ She puts her hands in the water and picks out the dirt with her nails until they're clean or at least clean enough for her standards.

 

She gets dressed and looks down at herself and adjusted her doublet. It was slightly tighter around her breast than it had been when she originally got it but it looked fine. It was accentuating her waist more than she liked but it was the only thing she had they was pretty. She straightened her shoulders and prepared herself for the compliments she would receive while wearing this. She like being praised for her accuracy with a bow or how well she wielded a sword but for her looks always bothered her. She remembers being the ugly sister. Arya Horseface was what they called her as a child but now Ned's other pretty daughter. The spitting image of her aunt Lyanna, so she was told. Being called beautiful by her family was simply a wholesome compliment. Her father being reminded of his sister, her brothers being nice and probably being more shocked that she was clean, and her mother had always called her beautiful. But when people outside her blood said nice things it made her uneasy. It was as if all that mattered to them was that she was pretty or in the case of some she was pretty and therefore a prize they wanted. 

 

She shook herself of that and made her way down to break her fast with her family. Jon, Robb and his wife Jeyne, Bran, and Rickon were at the table. Arya sat herself between Jon and Bran and they both gaped at her.

 

“Whatever is it you want to say say it now.”

 

Bran leans in close and Arya backs away from him, her face twisted in confusion. 

 

Bran chuckles, “did you wash behind your ears for once?”

 

Arya swats at his arm and the table erupts with laughter and Jeyne shakes her head at them. 

 

“So you're really going to be a lady for this one?” Jon says batting his eyelashes in his most ladylike fashion. 

 

“I promised mother and father I would and this,” she gestures at herself, “is step one.”

 

She fills her plate sausages bread from the table and begins scarfing it down as her brothers and Jeyne talk about the king's arrival. 

 

“Do you think he's still as fat as he was seven years ago?” Robb asks.

 

“Maybe fatter,” Bran says quietly.

 

Jon speaks up around a mouth full of bread, “well father says his son looks like a young version of him. I mean he says identical.”

 

“We'll get to see soon enough,” Catelyn says from the doorway. Rickon is behind her and his face is already dirty even though the sun only just rising. “They're coming down the kingsroad now so I need all of you up and ready to present yourself,” she turns her eyes to Rickon, “and I'm going to scrub your face and it better stay that way.” Rickon frowns but doesn't protest.

 

Everyone hurries to finish their breakfast before standing and going out to the yard. Everyone in the household is already beginning to line up to be presented to the king and his newly legitimized son. Arya has a sudden jolt of deja vu as everyone formed their lines. It all looked the same but this time it was Jeyne instead of Sansa, it was Rickon being reprimanded instead of her, and Jon stood in line with them instead of behind them. Catelyn had recently began to treat Jon with much more care and affection. Only Jon and her parents were supposed to know that the reason for this was due to the fact that he was their cousin instead of the brother but Jon came to her and spilled that secret the second father had told him. Arya had made Jon promise to still think of her as his sister, his favorite sister, and he had mussed her hair and told her he couldn't think of her as anything else. Her mother had started treating him more like her own after that. 

 

The portcullis was being raised and the sound of hooves and wagons was growing closer. Her mother and Rickon ran over to their places and father was close behind them. Catelyn did a once over of all of them and gave a stiff nod of approval. The went to their knees as the procession began to roll in. They all waited as three kingsguard, the king, his son, and Tommen rode in on their horses. They were followed by the remaining four kingsguard and a few wagons and carriages. Robert stepped down off his horse but unlike last time he needed no help. Looking at him now it was hard to believe how fat he used to be. His gut was nearly gone now and he walked much lighter on his feet. He was still a huge man but more so in height than weight now and his face appeared slimmer under his thick black beard. It was easier to see the relation between him and his younger brother now. 

 

Arya scanned the tall, thick armed boy behind the king. His hair was cut short, his chin and jaw was covered with black stubble, and his eyes were amazingly blue. He followed behind his father as they approached her family. Robert pulled Ned up into a tight embrace and they all took that as the cue to stand. 

 

“You were a lot fatter last time, your grace.”

 

Robert bellowed loudly and it was so loud and deep Catelyn nearly jumped from her skin, “I got sick of sweating just from climbing the stairs. It'll do no good being old  _ and _ fat.” He reached behind him and pulled Gendry next to him. “I actually look my boy now. Gods Ned it's like seeing the past.”

 

Gendry stood there awkwardly while her father shook his hand and gave him a sympathetic smile. Robert practically dragged Gendry from person to person. Arya looked up at the carriages and waited for the queen to descend from her carriage but when someone finally did it wasn't the blonde children she was expecting. They were two tall, black haired, blue eyed people. One was a woman that looked to be about Robb and Jon's age. She was slim and pretty with short black hair cut harshly at her jaw. She wore a jerkin and trousers and she had a belt around her waist with a dagger hanging from it. Arya couldn't help but stare at her. She didn't know who this woman was but she loved her already. The boy looked like he was probably her age. He was broad in his shoulders and he had a determined look on his face. Why he looked so determined was beyond her.

 

She turned her attention back to the king as he and his son appeared in front of her. 

 

“And here we have the lady we're all here for. Gendry, this lovely young woman is Arya Stark.”

  
Arya does her best to smile as everyone seems to hold their breath. She looks down the line at her mother then back at the Gendry. She holds back the urge to roll her eyes as she puts out her hand to him and he takes it gives it a light squeeze before releasing it. That's all he does. He doesn't try to kiss her hands or even say anything. He just looks at her and the king keeps moving down the line and he follows after him. She looks right back at him taking in his blue eyes, and broad shoulders. His hands had been rough and calloused to the touch but so were hers.  _ A blacksmith's hands.  _


	2. Pawns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I'm sorry for any typos that might happen. I hope you wonderful people enjoy this second chapter. I'm already writing the third for you!

As everyone begins filtering out of the yard Arya does her best to sneak away. She can feel that someone is following her before a deep voice softly calls her name. She turns to see Gendry standing awkwardly at the opening of the corridor she was trying to sneak through.

He clears his throat, “My lady, I--could we maybe talk a bit before the feast tonight?”

Arya tilts her head to the side, “Why?”

“I thought it might be nice to talk before the feast later. I don't know I thought it might be nice to get know my future wife while th--”

“We aren't betrothed yet. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You're supposed to be seeing if you even want to marry me.”

“That's not what I was told by my father. He's under the impression that me and you are set to be married. This was all just a formality for us to meet and get to know each other a bit before.”

Arya walks up to him, her face is level with his chest and her attempt at looking intimidated is pretty much useless. “We are not betrothed. Tell your father I pick who I marry and I'm not marrying some stranger.”

She turns to walk away from him.

“Well maybe you should tell your father the same thing since he already agreed to the betrothal.”

He almost regrets saying when she turns back to him. Her fist is clenched tightly and the other is wrapped around the dagger at her waist, her face is turning red and her lips are pursed together in a tight straight line. How can this tiny woman look so scary?

“My father?”

“He sent a letter to us saying he approved of a marriage between me and you. It was conveniently right after your sister left court to go back to Highgarden so I think she was seeing if I was worthy of her little sister. Am I right?”

Arya thinks about the letter but Sansa never mentioned a confirmed betrothal. Maybe she didn't know either.

“Did you really not know what this was?” Gendry asks softly.

“No but you did and you agreed to it? You don't even know who I am. Did you even know what I looked like?” She crosses her arms and begins tapping her foot on the stone floor.

“I was told you looked like your aunt by my father but that doesn't help since I never knew her. Sansa did talk about you often though. She told me you were beautiful and fierce and nothing like any lady she had ever known. I didn't really agree to it at first but you sounded like a good match and having a wife makes my legitimacy less scandalous. Having someone of a noble house at my side helps me become more valid.”

“So I'm a tool to you now?” Arya's nearly steaming now.

Gendry runs his hand over his face and huffs out a deep breath. “That's not what I mean. I just mean th--”

“That you need me to strengthen your claim? This is horse shit!”

She begins storming off but comes back and takes Gendry hand and drags him with her. He stops walking but keeps a grasp on her and pulls her back to him.

“Where are you taking me?” He says it in a low voice seeing that the people around are staring.

“We're going to talk to our fathers and end this.”

He yanks his hand from hers but keeps following her. They go to her father's solar and he can hear voices and his father's laughter through the door. Arya bangs on the thick wood with her little fists. The voices inside go quiet and there's some shuffling about before the door opens to Ned's face.

“What is it, Arya?”

Arya pushes in the small gap and makes her way into the room. She sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk and waves Gendry in when she sees he’s not next to her. He enters the room giving a timid smile before walking in.

“I'm sorry that we barged in, Lord Stark. Your daughter is not happy with the arrangements that have been made regarding our marriage.”

Robert looks at Gendry then at Arya, “You don't want to marry my son, girl? What girl doesn't want to marry a prince? Look at him. The girl's at the court practically drape themselves over him.” Robert walks over and pulls Gendry tight by his side but Gendry tries to pull away.

“No offense, your grace, but prince or not I didn't agree to marry a stranger.”

Gendry clears his throat, “maybe we could push back the marriage and we can get to know each other? I feel like that’s fair.”

“No we need this to happen as soon as possible. The houses should have been joined twenty years ago,” Robert says in his loud voice.

Ned walks over and sits at his desk. “Arya, we can't keep waiting for you to agree to a certain lord anymore. Most of the houses won't even entertain the thought of their sons being married to you because of what they consider your unusual nature.”

“Unusual?”

“Robert could you two excuse me and my daughter while we talk in private?”

Robert gives and impatient huff, “I’ll be waiting outside. Were going to begin making more arrangements for this wedding. I didn’t bring my family all the way north for nothing.”

Robert and Gendry leave and close the door behind them. Ned gives her a gentle look, “A woman that can wield a sword, and out shoot her husband isn't an appealing thought to most lords. They want submissive wives that will give them lots of heirs to carry on the name. I know you wouldn't want that which is why we made an arrangement with Gendry.”

“I'd rather not be married then.”

Ned sits back in his chair, “you don't have that option anymore. Our family is small, we have no cousins, no aunts and uncles, we're isolated here in the north and I need all my children married for the sake of our blood. We need to begin to expand our house beyond just few Starks we have. I need all of you to have children. You need to be married and that's final. This boy is the last willing to marry you and we're taking that offer. You don't have a choice.”

“I don't want to be married to him.”

“Well the wedding is already being planned and even outside the interest of our family there things your marriage will help us with. Help the kingdom with.”

“So now my marriage is political? Why don’t you tell me these things? Be honest with me, father, for once.”

Ned considers it for a few moments. Maybe telling her everything that was happening would make it better for her. Easier for her to understand. He knew there was a larger chance it wouldn’t but it couldn’t hurt.

Ned let’s out deep sigh, “Okay the king is trying to legitimize his bastard children and annul his marriage to the queen.”

Arya eyebrows rise and her eyes go wide. Her father had never involved her in any politics and now he was hitting her with the most crucial information she ever had.

“I still don’t understand how that involves me.”

Ned leans forward in his chair, “your marriage unites the north with the Stormlands and the royal family, it’s a strong alliance which will be needed to make the Lannisters think twice before attempting to rebel against us.”

“Because he’ll be rebelling against the Baratheons which will include me and therefore any lords loyal to our houses. I’m assuming his annulment will be due to Cersei being unfaithful in marriage? There aren’t many reasons a king would end a marriage to his queen.”

Ned nods.

“I’m also assuming her children aren’t the king’s which would explain why they look nothing like him and why Robert brought other children that I’ve never seen before.”

“You catch on fast.”

“I’m not an idiot, father. Won’t they kill Cersei for what she’s done though. Woman aren’t exactly treated with leniency for affairs.” Even though Robert has twenty bastards if not more.

“I’ve managed to talk Robert out of it months ago. He also doing his best to be a better king so his is as blood thirsty as he was. Do you understand why this marriage is important? Why these alliances matter? Why our family needs to expand?”

“I do but that doesn’t make it any better. I’m still just being sold off as pawn,” Arya stands from her seat and begins to walk to the door. She stops with hand in the latch, “when is the wedding?”

“A week from today. You’ll be married in the Godswood. I would suggest getting to know you new family. Especially Mya and Edric and even the little one Barra, if you can find her since she apparently likes hiding from everyone. They’ll basically be your siblings once you’re in the south.”

Arya opens the door and slams behind. She stomps passed the king but Gendry seems to have disappeared. She walks through the castle and barely makes it to her room in time before she collapses onto her bed and begins sobbing.

………………………

  
It was dark outside when a light knocking comes from Arya's door followed by Jon's voice, “Arya, can I come in?”

“It's open.”

He comes in and sees her laying sprawled across her bed. He walks over to her and taps her ankle. She groans into her furs but doesn't move or say anything.

“Alright, Arya, scoot over.”

She flops onto her back like a dead fish and Jon lays down next to her. He looks over and sees that her eyes are still red and puffy and her face is tear streaked.

“You look like shit.”

Arya laughs to herself, “I feel like shit too.” She rolls back to face Jon. “Did father tell you to come talk some sense into me?”

“No, Gendry asked me to come see if you alright. He told me about your betrothal. He was going to come himself but I felt like you might try murder him.”

“If I murdered him I wouldn't have to get married.”

“We could put his body in the crypts or you could get up and come to the feast, get drunk, eat some lamb.” He gets up and holds his hand out to Arya, she takes it and he pulls her to her feet and into a hug.

“Do I have to be nice?” Arya says into Jon's chest.

“I think you've earned the right to be as horrible as you want.”

She pulls back and looks up at his face, “you didn’t know about the betrothal before Gendry told you?”

“No I think father knew none of us would be able to lie to you about it. Especially not me.”

Arya pulls him back into the embrace, “let’s go eat then.”


	3. Sharing Spirits

“Barra! Barra get back here!” Gendry runs after his little sister as she weaves through the crowd that's making their way to the hall for the feast. Her new yellow dress is dirty up to the knees and her hair has fallen down from it's knot and now hangs down her back in long black tresses. She stops running and Gendry makes a grab for her but she giggles and ducks down between his legs and runs behind him. 

 

“You supposed to catch me, Gendry,” she says with her hand on her hips and a big smile on her face that shows off her the gap where four of her baby teeth used to be. 

 

Gendry watches as Mya sneaks up behind Barra and scoops her up into her arms. Barra tries to squirm her way free but Mya keeps her locked in place with her long arms. 

 

“That's no fair! Mya wasn't playing!”

 

“ _ You _ let your guard down.” Mya says as Barra keeps trying to get free. “Anyway you're supposed to be getting ready for the feast.” Mya puts Barra down and holds her hand so she can't escape.

 

“I don't want to go to the feast!” She tries prying Mya's hand away but to avail. 

 

Gendry kneels down so he's eye to eye with Barra. “There'll be pies and cakes and we'll let you eat all the sweets you want.”

 

Barra's eyes light up, “come on, Mya, let’s go to the feast.” She starts dragging Mya to the door where Edric and the Starks are lining up for their entrance. Gendry looks over and sees Jon and Arya walking over to the take their places. Gendry straightens his doublet and squares his shoulders. He walks over to Jon and Arya and clears his throat. She turns away from her brother and her smiles falls immediately. 

 

“What do you want?” She says it harshly and he can see that her eyes are puffy in the light of the torches by the door. He wishes he hadn't noticed it. He holds out his arm for her and keeps it there until she rolls her eyes and takes it. They stand in silence behind Jon and Mya. He can't but notice Jon is staring at his sister who stands a few inches taller than him. He chuckles quietly to himself. 

 

“What's so funny?” Arya says. He looks down at her and thrust his thumb in Jon's direction. She looks up at him and he's still staring at Mya. 

 

Gendry leans down to Arya, “do you think he enamoured with her or just surprised by her height?”

 

Arya giggles quietly, “maybe both.”

 

“Arya, I'm sorry about all of this.”

 

“Why are you ruining the moment?”

 

“Because I want you to know that I tried to talk my father out of it. After your father asked us to step out I tried to convince mine to drop the betrothal or at least postpone it. He wouldn't agree to any of it. I was going to come tell you but your brother thought it was better that I didn't. From what I hear,”  _ and what I’ve seen,  _ “you’ve got quite the temper.”

 

“Does that bother you?”

 

“Does what bother me?”

 

“My temper.”

 

“As long as you don’t stab me I don’t mind it one bit.” He can see her smile a bit but pretends he doesn’t. He looks and sees Rickon and Bran both trying to pass Barra back and forth.

 

“Rickon I can walk by myself. She’s closer to your age anyway.”

 

“I don’t want her and look she’s running from me anyway.” Rickon smiles triumphantly as Barra runs passed both of them to get to Edric. She wraps herself around his legs buries her face in his half cloak.

 

“Barra you’re supposed to be with one of the Stark boys,” Edric says as he tries to peel her away from his legs. He looks to Gendry for help and Gendry just shrugs and watches and as Edric gets one leg loose. 

 

“I’m staying here!” 

 

Gendry lets out a huff, “Edric it’s fine. We’re just walking to our seats. It’s doesn’t matter.”

 

Edric rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight Barra anymore. Their father makes his way to the front of the small procession and finally the line begins to move. Arya’s grip on his arms tightens as they make their way through the doors.

 

“Are you okay?” Gendry whispers.

 

“I’m fine. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

 

He shuts his mouth and it tenses into a tight line. He escorts her to their table right under the dais where his father, her parents, and Robb and Jeyne are seating. He seats himself at the end of the table and Arya ends up between him and Jon. He doesn’t even wait for his father to announce the beginning of the feast before grabbing a piece of bread and chewing on it silently.

 

Robert stands from his seat and begins to speak in his booming voice over the noise of people chattering and shifting in their seats as they wait to eat. “My lords and ladies and other lovely people. I want you all to get drunk on the wine and ale and get your fill of the delicious food in celebration of my son and his soon to be bride.” He aims his tankard in their direction and Arya pours herself a nice amount of ale and gulps it down. Everyone in the hall erupts in cheers but Gendry put his face in his hands and Arya fills her tankard a second time and drinks it quickly. 

 

He fills his plate with food and eats slowly with he hand fisted under his chin and his elbow rested on the table. Arya is silent next to him except for the sounds of her quietly chewing. He doesn’t look over until Robb comes down their table and wiggles himself between Jon and Arya forcing her to scoot over and press herself against Gendry. 

 

She looks up at him with crimson cheeks, probably more so because of the ale and not the suddenly lack of space between them. “Are you always this quiet?”

 

“No but you don’t exactly enjoy my company.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

She stands up from the table and stumbles on her feet into Gendry. He catches her by the waist and holds her until she’s steady and maybe a bit too long after that. She doesn’t seem to notice as he clears his throat and pulls his hands away from her. She walks away then turns on her heels and comes back to the table only to pick up a pitcher of ale and walk out the hall. Gendry keeps looking at the door. He doesn't know if he should leave her to her own devices or follow her and make sure she's okay.  _ Gendry, you fucking idiot.  _ He runs his hand over his face then gets up and walks out the door before his can change his mind.

 

He looks out into the darkness and sees a short figure walking off down a tunnel dimly lit by torches “Arya? Arya, wait for me.” She spins around to see who's calling her and rolls her eyes when sees him. He catches up to her in a few strides.

 

“I'm surprised you didn't try to get away from me.”

 

“Your legs are mucher longer than mine and I don't feel like running. Don't read too much into it. Why are you following me anyway? Go eat and be merry, maybe find some serving wench to fill with bastards.” She takes a swig straight from the pitcher and it dribbles down her chin. She wipes it with the back of her.

 

“I don't want the serving wenches.”

 

Arya lifts an eyebrow, “ah so that's why you're here.”

 

“No no. I'm making sure you get to wherever you're going safely. I'm not trying to...that's not why I'm here.” Gendry can feel his cheeks to burning and hopes that it's dark enough that she can't see it.

 

“I don't need you escort me I live here.”

 

“Well with the way you’re drinking that ale I didn’t want you to slip on some stairs or something. This also gives me a chance to be shown around since you’re an expert.”

 

She jerks her thumb vaguely in the direction of her room as she says, “I was going to drink alone in my chambers. You're welcome to come if you insist of being with me.” She starts walking and doesn't wait to see if Gendry is following her this time but of course he does. 

 

“I thought you hated me.”

 

“I don’t hate you I hate that I’m being forced into a marriage with you. Honestly you seem more pleasant than most which is why I’m willing to share my ale.” 

“I don't think it would be good for me to be seen in your room alone and this late at night.”

 

Arya laughs, “are you afraid people will think we're fucking? We're going to be fucking in a week anyway might as well let the rumors flow.”

 

“We're not fucking in a week, we're getting married in a week. That's not the same thing.”

 

“Didn't the maesters teach you how a wedding and consummation works? Nothing counts until you take my maidenhead,” she lowers her voice doing her best maester imitation, “and as a woman it is my job to lay there and fulfill my wifely duty.” 

 

“Arya--”

 

“That’s just how it’s done apparently.”

 

“Arya,” he grabs her sword belt and pulls her back to face him, “I want to make this clear now. I'm not going to be the husband that sweats drunkenly over his poor little wife on our wedding night.”

 

Arya looks up in his eyes, bright blue and dead serious, “I'm don't care about consummating our marriage. I'm not fucking you until you tell me too. If we ever have our first time I don't want you to remember it as me having taken something from you. Understood?”

 

She nods quietly and he let's go of her belt.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to grab you like that I just needed you to hear that.”

 

“Well I suppose you're better than some of my other past suitors. If not looking forward to forcing yourself on me can be considered a measurement of how good someone is because it shouldn't be something that has to be considered.”

 

“Have lords told you they were going to force themselves of you? Directly to your face?” Gendry isn't surprised that a lord or any man would do it, he's heard the way men talk about their conquest and how the women just lay there and let them do their work.  His own father even had those stories. The thought any man would say that to woman was what surprised him most.

 

“You'd be surprised the things lords whisper to ladies when they think no one else is listening. How they talk about what they want to do on the wedding night. How they talk about what they like to do to women. Even things the woman doesn't enjoy. Why do you think I turn away so many? I don't mean to offend you but men outside my family all seem like shit. I don't want to marry anyone that wants to use me.”

 

“I'm sorry, Arya. I didn't know.”

 

“Don't be sorry, of course you didn't know.” She holds out the pitcher to him. He takes and sips the ale. His face twists up in disgust.

 

“This tastes like piss water. How are you drinking this?” He shoves it back at her.

 

“It's fine. You southern boys are weak and pampered.” She downs the last of the liquid and turns it upside down and frowns as the last few drops fall to the dirt.”

 

“I'm pampered for not wanting to drink that shit? We're going to find something better to drink. Come on.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“We going to go to my father's chambers. The man drinks a lot less but he still has the best wine.”

 

“Let's me guess,” she point sher nose and in the air, puts her index finger in the air and says in her most snooty dialect, “it's made from the best grapes in the Arbor? Fermented to perfection and sweeter than a kiss?”

 

Gendry shakes his head and laughs, “well yes. Yes it is my lady.”

 

She swats him playfully on the arm. “Never call me “my lady” again.”

 

“Whatever you wish...my lady.”

 

“Gods you're terrible.”

 

“I do my best.”

 

After they make the stop at Roberts chambers and take a full skin of wine they make their way back to her room. The castle is fairly quiet but they see a few people on the way. There’s a group of drunk men sitting against a wall singing  _ The Bear and The Maiden Fair.  _ Down the corridor where her rooms is there’s a couple that seems to be kissing in a corner but as they get closer to them they see the woman has her skirts around the hips and there is a fair amount of thrusting and they sound like wild animals. They hurried passed them trying to muffle their laughter in their hands. They manage to make it to Arya’s room and close the door before their laughter escapes them. 

 

Gendry lets out a loud snort, “that was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. It was like two asses rutting against each other.”

 

“Please tell me that’s not how it’s supposed to sound because that’s the worse thing I’ve ever heard,” Arya asks as she falls into her bed and starts taking her boots off.

 

“I wouldn’t know. I certainly hope not.”

 

Arya stops and looks up at Gendry. 

 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Gendry runs his hands over his hair and breaks eye contact.

 

“Are you...a maiden? A maiden prince?”

 

“I’m not a maid. Shut it.” 

 

“But you’ve never been with a woman?” Thinking back to what he’d said earlier about their first time.  _ Our first time.  _ “Oh you are a virgin. A man whose a virgin at twenty-one. You’re a rare bird.” 

 

Gendry sits on the edge of her bed. “You make it sound like there’s something wrong with that.” 

 

Arya stands up and takes off her swords belt and nonchalantly throws it on the floor. She snatches the wine skin from his hands. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all.” She unscrews the cap and takes a big gulp of wine. She holds it up and squeezes it with her hands. 

 

“This is half empty!” She shouts with mock accusation. 

 

“I drank a lot of it before the feast.” He takes it from her and drinks. “I was nervous.”

 

“Have you been drunk this whole time?”

 

“No, it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk. There’s a lot of me.”

 

She hands the skin back to him and scoot backs until her back is against the headboard, “well I think I’m drunk.”

 

“You did drink an entire pitcher of ale by yourself.”

 

“I shared with you. You had a small sip.”

 

She looks him over and watches him sit at the foot of her bed. He looks everywhere around the room except at her.

 

“So you’re really a virgin?”

 

Gendry turns to her then, “yes, I wouldn’t lie about it.”

 

“All those ladies that drape themselves over you in the south and you never wanted one?”

 

He tastes a long drink of wine. “Honestly I don’t want be the prince that father’s a dozen bastards.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

He empties the wine skin and puts it on the floor then lays back on the bed with his legs hanging from the side. “My father doesn’t know I’m a virgin. He thinks I’m like him. He even took me to brothel once.”

 

Arya moves down the bed to lay next to Gendry. “You went to a brothel and didn’t indulge?”

 

“No she took me up to her room and we had a nice conversation. She told me that she was trying to save enough money to get her and her mother back to Braavos. She was a nice woman.”

 

“Was?”

 

“Well she still is I hope. I eventually helped sneak her and her mother onto a ship so they go back home. I miss her she was a good friend.”

 

“You have to have some kind of flaw. Everything you’ve told me is too perfect.” She sits up on her elbow and looks down at him.

 

A smile spreads across his face, “you think I’m perfect? You should talk to Mya and Edric, I’m sure they have some bad things to say about me.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I know Edric thinks I’m a tyrant. He hates when I tell him what to do but he’s always asking me what he should do so I’m at a loss. Mya just thinks I’m an idiot.”

 

Gendry looks up at Arya and their eyes meet and he looks away quickly.

 

She sits up and looks down at Gendry, “do I make you nervous?”

 

He sits up to meet her gaze. “What do you mean?”

 

She rolls her eyes, “you know what I mean. You said you drank wine because you were nervous and now you can barely look at me,” she leans in close to him and he can smell the wine on her breath, “do I make you nervous, Gendry?”

 

He looks into her half lidded gray eyes, then down at her lips. He takes a deep breath and she does the same and he feels it on his skin. 

 

“Yes, you make me very nervous but I like it.”

 

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Gendry?”

 

“Yes. I have.” His breath is coming out in quick short burst and her nose brushes his. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

 

“Never.” She moves her face down to his cheeks and kisses it then gently moves her lips down his neck. Her breath is hot on his neck and he can feel a familiar ache beneath his pants. She reaches up and unties his half cloak running her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to push it off. 

 

“Arya, we should stop.”

 

She open her eyes and backs away so she can see his face. “Do you want to stop?”

 

“I would love to keep going but--”

 

“But you protecting my virtue? You don’t to do that besides I only wanted a kiss.”

 

“Lady Stark, I doubt that I would only be able to kiss you right now.” He pushes back a loose hair from her forehead. Her face goes red and she lays back on her bed. 

 

“Well will stay and lay next to me?”

 

“Only lay next to you?”

 

“Yes, I swear it.”

 

Gendry takes off his boots and lays next to her. “I’ll stay then.”


	4. Protecting Honor

Arya rolls onto her side and curls into a fetal position. She watches Gendry’s chest rise and fall steadily and listens to his soft snores. She rises onto her elbow and looks down at his face. She runs her fingers up the bridge of his nose and over his forehead.The corners of his mouth curl up and hums quietly. 

 

“Are you awake?” She asks as she runs her fingers over his cheek.

 

“Barely.”

 

“You snore, did you know that?”

 

“I did actually. I hope it wasn't loud,” Gendry says in a groggy voice.

 

“It wasn't too bad. It was like a small growling bear and as cute as it was I need you to leave.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I want to get dressed in fresh clothes and I'm more than willing to hurry and do it before you open your eyes but I figured you wouldn't like that very much.”

 

He rolls onto his side, “it's not that I wouldn't like it, I just prefer we wait for all the fun stuff.”

 

“Well then get out please and thank you.”

“Alright fine.” He drags himself up and off the bed and stretches his arms up towards the ceiling. “Did anyone see me in here?”

 

“Only my handmaiden Lena. I'm sure she's going to tell all the others but considering we're both fully dressed and slept on top of the furs the worst she can say is we slept together. Actually slept.”

 

“If they're anything like the maids in the south that rumor will be blown out of proportion by now.” 

 

“They never have anything to gossip about here so I’m sure they’re going to have a good time with this.”

 

He walks over to the door but stops and turns with it half opened. “You've been very nice to me.”

 

“Well you were kind the entire night so it's only fair.”

 

“Does this mean we're at least friends now?”

 

“I'd say acquaintances.”

 

“I'll take it. I hope to see you around, Lady Stark.”

 

Gendry walks back to the tower where him and his family's chambers are all located. He barely gets his hand on the door before his father comes around the corner and spots him.

“Where have been all night? You missed most of the feast.” Robert slaps his hand on Gendry's shoulder. “Were you with the girl? Get a taste of what you're marrying.”

 

Gendry shoves the hand away aggressively, “no I did not “get a taste” I sat down with her to get to know her.”

 

“You sat alone with that pretty thing all night and talked? Gods boy are you sure you’re mine? I’d think you were Stannis’s boy for how uptight you are, that man doesn’t stick his cock in anything unless it’s for honor and duty.”

 

“I'm sorry that I don't think of sticking my cock in every woman that walks by. I'm trying to get to know my future wife, not treat her like some conquest.” Gendry turns back to his door.

 

“I have given you a beautiful little wife, boy, I simply expect you to be grateful.”

 

“She's not a goat, you didn’t give her to me. She’s being forced to marry me and I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation for her.” He walks through the door and slams it before Robert gets a chance to say anything else. He leans back against the door and makes a note to find the smithy later.

 

* * *

 

 

Arya has sweat running down her forehead. She wipes it away the back of her hand and puts her fist back in front of her face. Bran gets back to his feet with his dulled blade in hand while Arya's is in the dirt behind her. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't proud that he'd actually managed to disarm her this time. His improvement gave her even more reason not to go easy on him. He lunges forward with his sword aiming for her ribs. She manages to dodge it and get within arm's distance of him. She grabs his wrist with her right hand to halt the sword as he swings it again, she hooks her left ankle behind his and pushes his chest back while pulling her leg toward herself causing him to become a balanced. He falls to the ground and loses his sword in the process. She takes it and points at his face.

 

“Alright alright! You won now get the bloody sword out of my face.”

 

Arya laughs and takes the sword back over to the rack. Bran stands and dusts off the dirt from his backside. 

 

“You're getting better. Not better than me but still very good,” Arya says.

 

“Maybe if the prince keeps distracting you I can catch up.”

 

“Distracting me?”

 

“Everyone knows he spent the night in your room.”

 

“And what do people think happen in my room?”

 

Bran's face contorts as if he smells something bad, “my need for information ends with knowing he was in your room. I don’t want to know what actually to place there.

 

“If it makes you feel any better nothing scandalous happened.” Arya laughs as Bran's face gets even more contorted. 

 

“I didn't need to know that.”

 

“You're the one that started it”

 

“It was a mistake and I wish I could take it back but does this mean you like this one?”

 

“He hasn't given me a reason not to yet. He's very polite and innocent. Very handsome. I wish Sansa was here, she'd love this conversation.” Sansa would pull Arya into her chambers and pour a large cup of sweet wine and ask Arya everything that happened. Arya could only imagine what Sansa would say about Arya trying to kiss their big, handsome prince.

 

Bran hops up on the fence and crosses his arms, “I'm listening, come on tell me all about his nice eyes or whatever. Tell me what girls like so I can take notes.”

 

Arya sits next to him and nudges his shoulder with hers, “notes? Are you trying to get girls interested in you? Any girl in particular?” 

 

“No but I am next to be married after you. Might as well be ready for it.”

 

“You make it sound like a battle, Bran.”

 

“Girls are scary so it might as well be.”

 

She gets down from the fence and walks away backwards from Bran. “Well you have time to figure it out.” 

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To find a prince.”

 

Arya goes up to Gendry's chambers and knocks on the thick wooden door. There's no answer so she knocks again but the door on the opposite side of the corridor opens instead.

 

“He not here,” Edric steps out of his room pulling a velvet doublet on over his shirt. Arya gives him a quick once over and seeing him this close she realizes just how much he looks like Gendry. He isn’t as muscular but still tall enough that Arya only comes up to his chest. His eyes aren’t as bright as Gendry’s either instead they’re a darker blue. 

 

Arya crosses her arms over her chest, “where is he then?”

 

“Why do you need to know?” Edric says as he runs his hands through a mass of ebony hair.

 

She crosses her arms over her chest, “I want to speak with him.”

 

Edric smirks, “what about?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“Because he's my brother. It's my job to care.” 

 

“Are you always this much of a little shit?”

 

“Do you always have twigs in your hair?” He reaches up to pull a twig from Arya's hair and she smacks his hand. He snatches it back to his chest with the twig in hand. “Gendry, is in the forge. He's spends a lot of time smithing when father pisses him off.”

 

“Pisses him off?”

 

“Not my story to tell and definitely not a story I think you’d care for.”

 

Arya rolls her eyes and stomps her way down the corridor.

 

“You shouldn’t get angry so easily, she wolf,” Edric calls out as she turns the corner.

Arya rolls her eyes thanking the old gods that she didn't get arranged with that brother. For as much as he looked like his Gendry they were amazingly different from what she could tell. She walks all the way to the other side of the castle to the forge. 

There's steam and heat filling the air and she loves the warmth. The sound of hammers on metal and sizzling from hot steel being cooled rapidly is loud in her ears but she hears Mikken's voice through all the noise. She follows it until she comes across him and Gendry huddled in a corner over a sword Mikken was showing off. Gendry takes the blade in the hand and tests the weight. He's wearing a soot covered shirt it's open enough that a good portion of his muscled chest is showing. The sleeves are rolled up and his forearms flex as he changes his grip on the sword and Arya is suddenly very hot under her leather.

 

“This is lovely. I don't fight with a sword but you might change my mind with work like this.”

 

Arya walks up to them. “What do you fight with?” 

 

Both Mikken and Gendry turn to her. She keeps her eyes on Gendry and he smiles down at her. 

 

“I prefer to wield a hammer both in and out of the forge.” 

 

Mikken looks from Arya to Gendry and back again. When neither of them speaks he clears his throat loudly. “Lady Stark, come down for another dagger or is it throwing knives this time?” Mikken smiles through his thick white beard.

 

“Actually I came to see our prince at work. I was curious about his skill.”

 

Mikken scratches at his white beard. “Ah well in that case I'm going to leave you two on your own then.” 

 

Arya swears he winks at them before he turns to walk away. She may have underestimated the way rumors spread. She turns back to Gendry who's still smiling down at her with so much warmth her stomach begins to flutter.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“Did you really come here just to see me?”

 

She can't help but blush when he says it because they both it's true. “I think it's a good idea to get to know each other. I went to your room but your brother said you were here. Your brother is a bit of a twat by the way.”

 

Gendry lets out a little chortle. “He is but I love him anyway. He simply needs someone to knock him down a bit.”

 

“I'll gladly be the one to one to do that.”

 

Gendry walks over to one of the fires and pulls out a long piece of steel that’s glowing bright orange from the extreme heat. “Do I get to watch when you beat up my brother?” 

 

“Of course you do, I want a whole audience,” Arya say as she watches him hammer at the metal. She sits on a nearby bench and watches him work. His brow is furrowed and sweat is dripping down his face. She’s never seen him look so focused and in his own element. He handles the hammer the same way she handled her weapons, as if they were an extension of her own arms. All his movements are done with certainty and grace and yet they are aggressive as he slams metal against metal. She sits in silence while he works and he looks up at her occasionally with a with a smile and goes back to what he’s doing. 

 

“Alright I'm almost finished,” he says as he begins putting away tools and cleaning the work space. 

 

By the time they leave the forge the sky is beginning to dim. Gendry shrugs into his plain leather jerkin and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“It's freezing out here. Are you not cold?”

 

“It isn't that cold to me.”

 

Gendry shakes his head, “you northerners are hard people. Piss water ale, freezing weather, even the ground is frozen.” He stomps his foot on the hard ground for emphasis.

 

“A hard place breeds hard people.”

 

“I don't think you're as hard as you'd like to think. You're hard in a fight maybe but from what I've seen you're soft in spirit. Kind and all that.”

 

“Have you been drinking again?”

 

Gendry laughs, “no I'm simply telling you what I've seen so far. It has only been two days so I could be wrong but I’m willing to wager that you will continue to be this way.”

 

“That's actually what I wanted to talk about. You're the nicest suiter I've ever had and I want to try to,” she hesitates looking for the words, “well just try. I've never even done that much.”

 

“I'm willing to try then. We have five days for it.”

 

“Five days. If we hate each other at the end of five days I guess we'll be stuck in a loveless marriage.” 

 

“I doubt I’ll be able to hate you, Arya,” Gendry says as he holds out his hand and Arya shakes it. “I was always planning on spending as much time as possible with you anyway. I'm very intrigued by you.”

 

Arya's cheeks heat up.

“Plus the more I say nice things to you the more you blush and I can't pass that up.”

 

Arya let's go of his hand and crosses her arms but there's a smile spreading across her face. He walks with her to dinner but decides he better go clean the soot from his skin before he joins their families.

 

* * *

 

Arya and Gendry barely get to spend to any time together after they make their agreement. Gendry spends the next five days trying to get time with Arya and when he wasn't doing that he was in the forge hammering something or spending time with his siblings and the Stark children. He had gotten to know more about her brother's interests than he had Arya herself. He spent time sparring with them in the yard, sat with them at dinners, and went on rides with them around the Winterfell and got to see how beautiful the north was even if it was cold enough that he felt as if his nose would fall off. 

 

“So Gendry, you and my sister.” Jon said on one of their rides.

 

“What about us?” Gendry says in confusion.

 

Robb chuckles behind them on the trail.

 

“I think she like you and with a few days until the wedding I wanted to get a feel for how you feel about her. You’re marrying someone with four protective brothers, it’s our duty to make sure you’re a good a proper husband.” Jon does his best to keep his face straight but when Robb’s laughter grows Jon breaks. 

 

Gendry shakes his head and begins laughing with them, “did she say anything about me?”

 

Robb and Jon share a look before Jon speaks, “she talks about you sometimes but mostly because she mad that Lady Stark won’t let her speak to you alone.” 

 

When Gendry expression of confusion grows even more intense Robb continues.

 

“My mother said it's improper for the betrothed to be alone before they're married,” Robb said with a hard eye roll. “Our mother can be very outdated. So you two being absent from the feast she’s and the rumors she’s determined to maintain Arya’s honor.”

 

Jon claps Gendry on the shoulder, “my official advice would be don't go against her because that woman is terrifying. My unofficial advice would keep trying. Lady Stark only has two eyes.”

 

Gendry had tried and failed. Catelyn kept Arya busy with things for the wedding. Apparently the bride had a lot more to do. All he needed to do was wait and the more time went by the more impatient he got with all of it. After three days of attempts to infiltrate the metaphorical fury around Arya he decided to spend his time in the smithy making something he could give her. 

 

Arya didn't have much more luck than Gendry had with their plan. Her mother kept her busy with fittings and arrangements. She had agreed to wear a dress but only because it was her mother's dress. A beautiful light blue gown that pooled at her feet due to her small stature. There was gold detail around the neckline and at the edge of the dagged sleeves and small golden flowers all over the dress. 

 

“I offered it to Sansa,” Catelyn had said, “but she wanted a dress inspired by the reach so I want you to have it.”

 

With saying yes that meant more fittings to have the dress hemmed and taken in. She had to have a new chemise made because the original had been moth eaten and Arya hated every second. The seamstress stabbed her with needles and pins so many times Arya began to think it was intentional. She was ready all of this to be over. She kept in mind that in less than a week all this poking and prodding would be done but then she'd be married and moved to the south with her new family and her husband who she barely knew.

All the stress wasn’t helped by the fact that she couldn’t seem to talk to Gendry. He was the only person that could understand how nervous she was considering he was the one she was marrying. The lecture she had received from her mother about having a boy in her room while unwed was long and tedious. Arya didn’t see the point in all the dramatics considering what was expected of them on their upcoming wedding night that loomed ever closer.

The night before the wedding wasn't a restful one for Arya. She laid in bed staring at the   wooden beams of her ceiling until she couldn't deal with it anymore and decided it would be more productive to shoot than lay there contemplating. She slipped into her leather and britches and slide her boots on. She walked lightly down to the archery area. It was nearly pitch black with only the moon shining down onto the castle. She uses the darkness as a challenge to get better. Hitting a bullseye in daylight was second nature for her but with only the moonlight she could barely see. She notches her an arrow and shoots. The arrow hits the edge of the target and she notches another arrow. 

She hears footsteps behind her and when she turns to look she sees Edric holding a torch.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be good.”

 

She turns back to her target and shoots again. It misses again.

 

“That's horrible. Come on, she wolf, you can do better than that,” Edric says. 

Arya reaches for another arrow, “why are you here?”

 

“I can’t sleep in this castle it's too quiet. I’ve grown used to the loud ramblings of King’s Landing.

 

She looks him over again and notices his tousled hair and the dark circles under his eyes. “You can't sleep because there's not enough noise?”

 

Edric walks over to the closest wall and puts the torch in a sconce. He then proceeds to the weapon rack and picks up a bow. He notches and shoots and misses the entire target.

 

“Fuck.” 

 

Arya laughs and shoots her arrow and it's closer to the bullseye this time.

 

“What was that about how good I'm supposed to be?” Arya turns to Edric with her eyebrows 

raised.

“It's dark as shit out here,” he says in frustration. 

 

He’s right, it is dark as shit even with the on torch close by but she’ll never give the validation.

 

“It was dark when I shot mine too. The moon didn't suddenly get brighter for me.”

 

Edric shoots again and overshoots completely. 

 

“Edric, why are you here?”

“I told you I can't sleep.”

 

“Then why are you bothering me? It's a big castle you be anywhere else.”

 

Edric set his bow against the fence. “You know my brother is very infatuated with you. He won't shut up about you. It's really annoying actually. No offense, you seem great an all but he only talks about you.”

 

Arya’s lips curl a bit at the edges. “What's your point?”

 

“My point is he's very invested and I want to sure you are too. That you're not marrying him for his title.”

 

Arya's flabbergasted by the statement, “I didn't even want to marry in the first place, hell I'm still not sure. Where would you get the thought that I want the title that comes with marrying him.”

 

“Because every other lady did. Everyone wants to fuck the king's bastards but it wasn't until Gendry was legitimate that everyone wanted to be a princess. Now I personally wouldn't mind exploiting that for a beautiful wife but Gendry isn't like that. He wants a kind wife who he can be happy with. He doesn't care about much for the politics that come with a royal marriage.”

 

Arya’s heart is warmed by the sentiment. “You care about him.”

 

“Of course I do. He's my big brother and you'll be my little sister soon. I hope I can treat you that way. Their are a lot of enemies in the south, I’d prefer to have another friend.” Edric starts walking away from her.

 

Arya calls out to him, “does that mean you'll stop being a twat?”

 

“No that's part of my brotherly charm.”

 

Arya shoots until the sky starts to get lighter. She goes back to her room when the castle begins to wake up. When she turns the corner to go down the corridor where her room is she’s startled to see Gendry standing in front of her door. He smiles as soon he sees her and she can’t help but smile back. 

 

“I brought you something. I was going to wait until later after the wedding tonight but I wanted to give it to you before all the chaos happens.” 

 

He holds out an ornate wooden box to her. It has a direwolf’s head carved into the top of it and running direwolves running along the sides. Arya takes the box into her hands and opens the lid. Inside there are two gleaming daggers. Both matched down to the pommels, one a white wolf and the other a black stag. Gendry runs his hand over his face as he watches her examine the daggers. Arya smiles up at Gendry and closes the box. 

 

“You made these for me?”

 

“Well I made the blades and the rest is mostly decorative but they’re really sharp so they’ll cut all the same and I wanted to ge--”

 

Arya reaches up and puts her hand on the back of Gendry’s neck and pulls him down to her. She gives him a quick chaste kiss on the lips. “These are perfect but I didn’t get you anything.”

 

Gendry stands up straight. “You just gave me something. I’ll see you tonight, Arya.”

 

“I’ll see you in the godswood.”

 

Arya watches him walk away and goes into her room once he disappears around the corner. She goes into her room and sets her new daggers down on the table. She runs her hands over the direwolf and smiles to herself before stripping off her clothes and getting into her bed. She pulls her furs up to her chin and falls asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever but on the bright side I already have a good chunk of chapter five written.


	5. Under The Weirwood

Arya stands in her room surrounded by her maids, her skin raw and freshly scrubbed, and her mother fussing around her. Her handmaid, Lena Fenn, was vigorously brushing at her tangled mess of hair. She was accustomed to Lena bringing in fresh water to wash off with for her every morning and then not seeing her again until she brought more in the next day. Based on how rough she was brushing Arya’s hair she couldn’t wait to go back to that.

 

While Lena brushes through her hair and braids it another maid scrubs at the dirt around Arya's fingernails. She’s forced down into a chair as the maids start pinning her hair at the back of her head in and intricate knot of braids and her with they finish she feels like her skull is being stabbed from a dozen different places. They slide the itchiest wool tights up to just above her knee and then tie a silk ribbon around the tops to hold them up. Then finally as her last form of torture they work as team to slide the dress up her body, over her thin linen shift, and lace it up in the back much tighter than any dress ever needs to be. 

 

She was now probably poked, prodded, bathed, scrubbed, and trapped in her torture device. The maids all took a step back to admire their handy work.

 

“Arya, you look so beautiful,” Catelyn is sniffling and her eyes are filling with tears. 

 

“You promised you wouldn't cry, mother.”

 

Catelyn puts her hands on either sides of Arya's face, “I can't help it you look so lovely. I'm never going to get to see you like this again, I need to absorb it all in. Ladies could you give me a moment with my daughter?”

 

They all empty out of the room, leaving Arya with her mother. 

“I have one more thing for you. A little finishing touch.” Catelyn pulls a small cloth from her pocket and unfolds it to show Arya a ornate comb with a trout on it. “Stark, Baratheon, whatever they call you I hope you never forget you have Tully blood as well.” She walks around Arya to put the comb in the mass of hair at the back of Arya's head. 

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Arya exhales deeply, “not one bit so I suggest we go down before I run away.”

 

Catelyn laughs and gives Arya her arm, “there's no way you can run in that dress, my love. That was all part of the plan.”

 

They make their way down to the yard right outside the godswood. Her brothers, Jeyne, and father are all there waiting to see her. 

 

“Why are you all out here? You should already be in there.” Catelyn fusses and starts urging them in. 

 

“Come on, mother, we wanted to see her before the wedding. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Robb says in protest.

 

“Well you've seen her now go in there.” 

 

They all walk in and leave Arya and Ned. Arya takes Ned's arm and clutches it tight. He puts his hand over hers and squeezes it.

 

“I'm sorry we rushed you into this, Arya. I truly do believe that he can make you happy.”

 

“Father, that doesn’t make it better. He’s be kind and maybe you’re right but that doesn’t change how this all started.” Arya pulls on Ned's arm and they walk into the godswood. The second the weirwood tree is in her sight everything is a blur to Arya. The goswood is lit by torches and it's beautiful to see. The attendance of the wedding is small with her family, Gendry's family and most of the household staff and those that came with the king. She meets eyes with Jon and when she looks the other way she sees Edric.  _ He's my big brother and you'll be my little sister soon.  _ She turns her gaze to the red leaves of the weirwood fluttering in the breeze like small bloody hands and down to the weeping face carved into the bark. 

 

Then she meets eyes with Gendry. He stands with his hands clenched at this sides, he’s wearing a black velvet doublet with golden stags embroidered all over it and a luxurious golden sash draped over him and belted at the waist. She didn't think it was possible but he looked more handsome now than he ever had standing there in all his Baratheon glory. His jaw was covered in more black hair than it had been when he first got there and Arya was beginning to think that she might like beards. Maybe more specifically tall bearded men with ebony hair and bright blue eyes. Men with broad muscular shoulders and hands big enough to dwarf her own. 

 

This is what Arya had imagined when people would talk about how valiant and heroic Robert was during the rebellion. She'd never put much thought into what she liked in men before but standing in front this man she was certainly developing a preference. She doesn't even notice Robert standing under the weirwood or the vows and oaths being sworn as Gendry takes her hand. Arya can barely hear the voices over her heartbeat in her ears until Robert's booming voice breaks through, “Lady Arya, do you take this man?” Gendry squeezes her hand gently as she says yes and she swears she can hear her father let out a deep breath.

 

Everything is still muffled to her as she sits next to Gendry on the dais in their seats of honor in the great hall. Arya would rather be a part of the walls than here in front of everyone. Her head is beginning to hurt from all the pins that are in her hair and the dress is so tight her appetite is nonexistent. She stares out at the crowd of people eating and celebrating and being merry as they should and all she wants to do is tear her gown off. She shoves that thought down when she realizes that job will be saved for the bedding.

 

She can see Jon dancing with Mya and snickers at the way he has to look up at her. Their both terrible dancers but they seem to be enjoying themselves. Little Barra has managed to get Rickon to dance with her and they keep spinning in circles until Rickon falls. Bran is still stuffing his mouth and laughing as he watches his siblings dance about. Robb and Jeyne are sitting together with their foreheads touching and it would be sweet if not for the fact the Arya could tell they were both drunk and on the verge of falling asleep. 

 

Arya sits back in her chair and makes an attempt at a deep breath but with the constricting dress it's useless. 

 

“Arya?” Gendry rest his hand on hers and rubs thumb against the back of her hand.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Gendry leans over close so she can hear him over the festivities. He's so close that his lips are brushing her ear, “are you alright?”

 

“I'm fine. My dress is just very tight. I'm being squeezed to death.”

 

“I can loosen it for you,” he says getting up and kneeling down behind her chair.

 

“Someone might see you.”

 

“I'm not taking it off, only loosening the laces.” 

 

Arya leans forward so he can reach the back of her dress. He pulls at the strings and until Arya takes a deep inhale. Gendry stands and sits back in his seat. 

 

“Better?”

 

“Much better,” Arya reaches for the lemon cakes and pours a large tankard of ale. She nearly moans when she takes a bite of the food. 

 

Gendry scoots his chair closer to her, “now what else has you so quiet?”

 

“What do you mean?” Arya says around a mouth full of cake.

 

“We just got married, we're stuck together for life. Not to mention any second my father could call for the bedding to happen.”

 

Arya takes a deep drink of ale. The bedding ceremony was not something she was looking forward to. A tradition of lords putting their grubby hands all over the freshly wedded bride as they strip her naked for her husband and make comments about her tits. Then sit outside the room while the newly wedded couple consummate their marriage. At least the ladies did the the same to the groom but Arya wasn't excited about being stripped naked in front of her brothers and a group of people who had watched her grow up. 

 

“I really don't want to deal with the bedding,” Arya says. 

 

Gendry gives her a warm smile, “I don't either. Believe it or not I enjoy my modesty.”

 

Arya stuffs another lemon cake in her mouth and takes Gendry's hand and begins to get up, “then let's go before someone notices.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes, right now.”

 

She pulls him up and towards the door of the great hall and into the darkness. 

 

Gendry laces his fingers through Arya's, “where are we going this time?”

 

“To your room. I'm ready to take off this dress and get out of these stupid itchy tights an--”

 

“So you're ready to get naked?”

 

Arya turns around stares at him. “I...I guess in a way I am. But I--

 

“Remember what I said before we don't do anything unless you want to. We can just sleep if you want. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Arya is already pulling pins from her hair once they reach his chambers. She pulls the Tully comb from her hair and gently sets is on the desk. Her hair falls from it's knot a little at a time with every pin removed. She takes down all the braids and massages her fingertips into her scalp as she shakes her hair out.

 

Gendry sits on his bed watching her walk around the room looking at his sketches of weapons and armor he wants to make. Her movements are light a graceful. She barely makes any noise. She stops when she sees his bull’s head helmet sitting on top of a pile of papers. 

 

“Did you make this?” She holds up the helmet and runs her fingers over the smooth steel.

 

“I made that back when I was an apprentice. It actually wasn't that long before my father found me.”

 

“You made this as an apprentice? That's impressive. You worked in King's Landing before?” She says setting the helmet gently back in its place. 

 

“I was working under master Mott and one day my father and Jon Arryn came to get me and I was taught the ways of court. I could barely even read then.”

 

“And now you're a prince.”

 

“And now I'm a prince.”

 

Arya reaches down and pulls off her shoes. She tries to loosen the dress enough to pull it off but can't quite figure out the laces without seeing them. Gendry grabs her waist and pulls her over to him where he sits on the bed. She moves her hair over her shoulder and he pulls the dress loose. He puts his hands back in his lap and lets her pull the dress down until it pools at her feet. When she turns back toward him he painfully aware of how sheer her chemise is and even more aware of how visible the points of her nipples are through the fabric. He stands abruptly and walks over to the table and pours a large cup of wine and downs it. He pours another and hands it to Arya then pours himself a second cup. 

 

Arya takes the cup and sips the wine. “Are you alright?”

 

He gulps down the second cup. “I'm more than alright.”

 

She sits her cup down and walks closer to him until he is less than arm's length away from him. She runs her hand over the small stags on his chest and over to the clasps that are keeping the doublet closed.

 

“Can I take this off?”

 

He nods and watches as her small fingers undo the clasps and she pushes the fabric open. She runs her hands up his chest and down over the shoulders, pushing the doublet off. She slides her hand down over his stomach and feels the muscles twitch under his shirt. She looks up at him and meets his eyes.

 

“I want to take off your pants too.”

 

Gendry's heart is beating so fast he can hear it in his ears. He toes off his boots and kicks them to the side. 

 

He looks back down at her, “you can take them off.”

 

She doesn't stop looking at him as she pulls his tucked shirt from his pants. She pulls the strings loose and pushes the pants down his hips and off until they end up on the floor with everything else. The shirt is long enough that it covers anything scandalous but it's doesn't hide the fact that he's hard. Her breath is coming out in short puffs as she walks over to the bed and sits with her legs over the edge. She pulls her chemise up the her knees.

 

“Can you take my tights off for me?”

 

Gendry is tense as he walks over to her. He kneels down in front of her and takes her ankle delicately in his hand as he pulls the silk ribbon lose. He grabs the toe and pulls the fabric slowly off her leg then repeats it on the other leg. He leans down and kisses her knee. He grabs her hand and turns it over in his own and kisses her palm then her wrist. 

 

“I was hoping you'd kiss me on my lips,” Arya says breathlessly.

 

Gendry stands up and sits next to her on the bed. He puts his lips against her ear, “I want to kiss you everywhere.”

 

Arya gasps as he moves his lips down to her neck and nips the skin gently with his teeth. He kisses her cheek, down her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. Arya tries to catch his lips but he moves up to kiss her forehead. Gendry chuckles when Arya let's a frustrated sigh. He takes her face in big hands and puts his lips against hers. He moves his lips over hers and kisses her slowly and he's shocked with she's the first to involve her tongue. She runs it over his lips and he parts his and allows her to taste him fully. She turns her body towards him and he moves his hands down to her waist as she puts her arms on his shoulders. He slides his tongue into her mouth and she moans quietly and presses herself against his side. She moves to straddle his lap and Gendry is painfully aware of how she's pressed against him. He pushes the thin fabric of her gown off her shoulder and kisses the newly bare skin. 

 

“Gendry,” Arya says breathlessly.

 

“What is it, my lady?”

 

She doesn't say anything, she simply stands up from the bed. She gets in front him and stands between his legs. He instinctively puts his hands on her waist and runs them up and down her sides. 

 

“Do you want to stop?” He asks holding her small frame in his hands. 

 

“No, I'm just building up courage,” she whispers it as she pulls her chemise up over her head and throws it on the floor. He nakedness is inches away from him. She can feel his breath on her skin and he holds her. He looks over body and notes how everything about her is subtle and slender. The curve from her waist to hips,  her breasts, her arms and legs are slim but slightly muscular. He looks down at the dark hair at the apex of her thighs.

 

“Gods, Arya, I want to do so many things to you.”

 

“I want to look at you first.” She pulls him up to his feet and helps him pull his shirt off. He stands there naked with her and they stare at each other. Arya runs her fingers over his chest, she brushes his nipples then continues lowers to his stomach. She loves seeing his muscles flex under her touch. She travels down to his hips and caresses his thigh, then she moves slowly back up to the black hair that trails from his belly button and down to his cock. She pushes Gendry back onto the bed and he scoots into the middle. She climbs into his lap and rises to her knees so her breasts are level with his face. She takes his hand and puts it on one of her right breast and he put his other hand on the right. He squeezes them in his hands and pinches her nipples gently. Arya moans and puts her fingers into Gendry's hair. He moves his face closer latches onto one of her nipples and sucks it between his lips. 

 

“Gendry?” 

 

“Hm?” Gendry hums around Arya's nipple. 

 

“Did your Braavosi friend from the brothel give you any advice on how to do this?”

 

He removes his mouth from her and Arya can feel cold air hit the wetness left on her nipple. 

 

“She did actually. Why do you ask?”

 

“I was just curious on how much you might know. One of us should have some concept of what feels good for the other,” she caresses his cheek and he looks up into her gray eyes. 

 

“Well,” he says sliding his hand down her stomach, “she said all women like different things.” He moves his fingers over her curly dark hairs between her legs and can feel the heat coming from her. “She said one thing all women have in common though is that you should be very wet before a man even thinks about fucking her.” He runs his fingers between her lips and feels the wetness there. “She also said it's amazing the things that can be done with hands and mouths.”

 

Gendry dips a finger inside of her then moves it back up to her clit where he rubs small slow circles around it. Arya wraps her arms around Gendry's neck and he resumes sucking her nipples while his fingers cause her breaths to come faster.

 

“Do you ever touch yourself, Arya?” 

 

“Yes,” it comes out as a breathy moan.

 

“Do you go slow or fast when you do it?

 

“The slower I go the better it feels when--”

 

“When you cum?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

Her entire body feels hot as he rubs her slowly. He occasionally goes faster and brings her so close only to slow down and take away from her climax. He keeps stroking her sex slowly and as she climbs higher and higher he doesn't stop. She digs her nails into his shoulders as her thighs shudder. All the teasing and pushing her so close causes her entire body to go still and tense. Her hips rut against Gendry's hand and she moans loudly in his ear. He doesn't stop his movements until she relaxes back into his arms and rests her head on his shoulder. He rubs her back and holds her close to him. Arya breathes against his neck.

 

“Was that good?” Gendry whispers in her ear.

 

She pulls back and look as him. “Do you really need to ask?”

 

“I just wanted to hear you say it.”

 

“It was very good. I want you to feel good now.”

 

She moves her hand down between then and wraps her hand around him gently. He's hard in her hand and when she looks down there's a small drop coming from the tip. She rubs her thumb over it and Gendry lets out a deep breath. 

 

“Is this okay?” She asks him as she keeps sliding her hand up and down the length of him. 

 

His words come out low and gruff. “You can grip it a little tighter. Not too much though if you want to make it last longer.” 

 

There's more space between them as they both watch the movement of her hands. Gendry leans back on one hand and with his other he skims the skin of her thigh. His moans come quicker as gets closer to release. He thrusts up into Arya's small hand.

 

“Faster, Arya.”

 

She moves her hand faster and she feels his grip on her thigh get tighter. He head is thrown back as he groans and spills his seed between them. Some managed to get on her chest and the rest on her hand. 

 

“Shit, I'm sorry.” Gendry lifts her up off his lap and grabs his shirt from the floor and wipes off her breasts and hands.

 

“Is it always that...unpredictable?”

 

“Sometimes,” he throws the shirt back on the floor, “but the more frequent I cum the less their is from what I've noticed.”

 

Arya pulls back the furs and gets under them. Gendry gets under them with her and pulls her against him. 

 

Arya reaches up and runs her fingers through Gendry's hair. “I'm starting to hate that men have to take breaks before they can go again.” 

 

“Do you have more planned already?”

 

“We haven't technically consummated anything yet.”

 

"Do you want to?"

 

Arya thinks for a moment, "Not tonight."

 

He runs his thumb across her lips. “I'm in no hurry and I won't tell anyone if you don't. Besides you need to sleep. You stayed up all night shooting.”

 

“Edric told you that?”

 

“Yes he did and he also said you're a good shot.”

 

Arya closes her eyes and snuggles into Gendry's chest, “well tell he's a terrible shot.”


End file.
